


there's a hole where your heart lies

by silversonata



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amoneki - Freeform, First Kiss, M/M, Purple Prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 06:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4380734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silversonata/pseuds/silversonata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's their first kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's a hole where your heart lies

**Author's Note:**

> purple prose ahead! also beware potential ooc-ness?? i dunno, i didn't write much about the characters, so they might not be too ooc? also, apologies for grammar/spelling mishaps  
> originally posted on my [tumblr](http://slothkingharlequin.tumblr.com/);;this is the polished ver. tho

It’s their first kiss.

And it's a heady, hasty mesh, and smack of plush lips. 

Skittish fingers tangle, and twine in brittle threads of hair, fine, blunt nails prick in tense scalps, and burly chests press close, tight - every bit stifling, and assuring. There's a bitter tang of inexperience ripe on their tongues, and on their mouths, and they, nonetheless, persist, and thrive, and devour desperate, garbled confessions.

Empty, hollow echoes of "I love you - _I love you_ " resonate, clamor, and consume them. 

It's fervid, hot and heated between their eager bodies, the flesh on their bones warm, rosy, their minds adrift and awash in a torrent of muddled, ardent emotions. It's clumsy, disjointed, jaws strained, lips marred, swollen, and bruised. It’s uneasy, strung, and pitiful, and they remain dry, desolate husks, tremulous limbs, and frail hearts.

 _It's too much_ \- swiftly, suddenly, it becomes too much too soon.

Kaneki lingers, and hovers above the crest of Amon’s mouth, lashes fluttering, drooping, tentative, and wary, and he pauses, breathes - inhales, exhales.

He allows himself to succumb, to _feel_ \- to feel the sturdy breadth of Amon’s shoulders, the frayed collar of his white shirt, the dip of his spine, the toned swell of his chest, the thick, corded muscle of his arms, the rough, knobby stretch of his hands, callused palms, and slender fingers. He feels the sharp jut of his jawline, the curve of his cheeks, the cold bud of his nose, the arch of his distinguished brows, and _he feels_ , and basks in the intricate detail, in every piece that makes Amon whole. 

Kaneki startles, quivers, attuned to Amon's caress that intrudes, and disrupts Kaneki's reverie - his touch characteristic, light and gentle on the senses. Gingerly, without preamble, Amon reaches for Kaneki, coaxes him into directing the intensity of his gaze towards him, to see him, to remember him, and to remind him that he's still here - _he's still here_. 

Perturbed, Kaneki stares, and stares, the rim of his crinkled eyes focused on the scrunched lines of Amon's own, and he waits in bated breath, and in choked whispers. 

Deftly, Amon tucks a few loose, haphazard strands of Kaneki's matted hair behind the shell of his ears, fondly, he brushes his thumb across the folds of Kankei's mouth, and quietly, he pleads, "Promise me that you won't wait for me."

Kaneki wavers, erupts. 

Strips of his pearlescent teeth bare in a hoarse, strangled cry, glassy, carmine-stained eyes flicker, unsteady, unstable, and nimble fingers entwine in the cotton white of Amon's shirt, and Kaneki reels, stumbles, croaks, "N-no, no!"

Adamant, obstinate, flushed and fueled with anger, Kaneki shakes his head in steely dismissal, and rasps, " _No_."

Unfazed, and undeterred, Amon grasps Kaneki by the pinched sides of his face, slick, salty tears painting the tips of his fingers in sorrow, and scarce of chiding, he insists, rumbles, throaty and gravelly, "Please, Kaneki." He kisses the plane of Kaneki's forehead, "Please."

“Don’t - don’t you dare make me say it - “ Kaneki seethes, terse, minced.

Amon smiles, a gossamer quirk to his lips. "Ken."

And it's a brief exchange of gunmetal grays and viridian greens.

"I love you."

Demolished, reduced to mementos, to remembrance, Kaneki slumps forward, clings, and holds onto Amon, and he nestles in the crook of his neck, his nose in the hard contour of his collarbone, and he cries, shrill, and nasal, “I love you, I love you so much.”

Relentless, Kaneki cranes his head, beckons for a kiss, and one more, and another still to ingrain the strong hint of cider that resides on the curl of Amon’s tongue to the archives of his memory. Hapless, fruitless, he tries to carve Amon into the remnants of his heart, of his soul, but their time is short, their relationship splinted, and sundered. 

Amon must depart, a sullen, trodden glaze in his irises, and yet he stays, calm, patient.

He waits, he listens.

"I promise."

It’s their first kiss, and it’s also their last.

**Author's Note:**

> amon is leaving, and his life is forfeit, like this is some gang/war/death-zone shit alright, and he’s not gonna make it, he’s not going to live, he’s still choosing to go (idk why) tho and kaneki and amon both know this, which is why they finally come to terms with their feelings (that have built up over the time they’ve known each other), and confess, hence the first kiss/last kiss fiasco


End file.
